


Christmas Kiss

by orphan_account



Category: The Office (UK), The Office (US)
Genre: Christmas, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-13
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-04-29 22:23:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14482470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The Forced kiss, American style. Jim/Dwight.With an added bonus of a small Tim/Gareth one shot.





	Christmas Kiss

 

 

 

 

Sometimes in his giddiness, Jim maybe doesn't make the best decisions.

Maybe, in fact, he'll even say he goes a little too far. Over the line, but really just by a smidge.

And Dwight deserves it, right? To be cajoled a little?

And _this_ \- well, that's just Jim's reward for putting up with him, right?

 

 

 

Christmas equals Mistletoe.

But the trouble really begins when Dwight inadvertently ends up in the doorway with Phyllis and doesn't talk his way out of it.

He sighs heavily, mutters something about 'Christmas rules' and leans down to kiss Phyllis on the cheek.

It's when she stops him and insists, 'Christmas _rules_ '. The way Dwight squirms.

Phyllis presses their mouths together, chaste as parent and child but somehow it still _sticks_ on Jim.

Dwight's unhappy muttering in no doubt an effort to cover his faintly flushed, shy-like expression.

 

 

 

Jim thinks about using the mistletoe hanging above Toby's desk. It's hung there probably as a cruel joke from the Office women, or maybe a poor attempt by Kelly at entrapping Ryan.

But then he thinks better of it. Decides to make it more public.

Like at Dwight's desk. 

Of course there is no mistletoe there, so Jim has to plant it there while everyone is at lunch.

The trick is, of course, somehow making it Dwight's fault.

Jim is _the_ _best_ at convoluted plots.

He fiddles with the faulty wire on Dwight's telephone _just_ right - the way that drives Dwight crazy and causes the sound to cut out. Jim, being the gentleman he is, always comes to the rescue, such that Dwight expects it now.

He's been saving it for a real special occasion.

 

 

 

The moment doesn't go quite as expected.

Jim has expected a small acquiescence, he's expected to at least get Dwight to turn the other cheek. To which Jim will turn again and get his mouth. Because wouldn't that just be hilarious?

But it doesn't happen.

"Jim, could you - " Dwight demands in frustration, flailing wildly at his phone when it cuts out for the fifth time.

Jim sighs heavily and pulls himself up like he's unwilling. He arcs over Dwight - one hand on his shoulder and one reaching out towards the phone, covers his smile.

But Dwight looks up at him, kind of vulnerable and waiting for Jim to _fix_ things. It does things to a man.

But then of course his eyes light upon the mistletoe.

"No." He says shortly, definitively.

"What?" Jim asks, with fake innocence. Gasps loudly and points at the holly above Dwight's desk.

"No." Dwight says again, forcefully, and begins to push away from his desk.

And Jim just goes for it, leans close and tries to ghost his mouth over Dwight's.

Try is the operative word.

Dwight might be pinned in his chair by Jim's leaning weight but he turns his head and pushes Jim's face away with his hand.

And Jim is like a dog with a bone. Feels something giddy and predatory rise up within him. He pins Dwight's arm down - there's a loud snort of laughter in the background at that, Jim isn't sure who - and he's able to get a loud smack on the corner of Dwight's mouth.

Suddenly, it isn't _enough_.

Dwight's other arm comes into play but that's easily pinned down as well.

"Jim~" Dwight whines, glasses coming askew as he shakes his head roughly.

"Christmas _rules_ Dwight!" Jim chants, and moves back for the space of a breath.

To trick Dwight. And it works - he's flustered and unsettled, part breathless mess and part stuttering rage - but he relaxes. And it's then that Jim really gets him.

Pushes their mouths back together and even gets his tongue inside.

Tastes what Dwight's mouth is. It's surprisingly sweet and earthy. Like _beets_. It's nice.

Jim has popped a few altoids himself for the occasion.

Dwight tries to pull away but can't. Jim holds him still and has his way with him.

"Y-you...!" Dwight stutters, when Jim finally releases him, and pushes again.

Jim lets himself be pushed back. Dwight looks a little out of sorts at being so overpowered, being jeered at.

Michael is cackling through the blinds of his office before he opens the door.

"th-this is sexual harrassment!" Dwight cries out, immediately defensive. "Michael! Do something."

"What? No, Dwight that was just a joke. Good one, Jim!"

When Michael reaches his hand out for a high five, Jim smacks his hand broadly across the palm.

Dwight nearly falls and sprains his ankle ripping the mistletoe from the ceiling. Jim catches him, and if anything that only makes Dwight angrier. He rips his arm out of Jim's grasp from where he's steadied him.

The commotion Jim's prank actually causes is pretty small. There's a few chuckles, a small smattering of laughs but otherwise it's business as normal.

Dwight flushes intensely, face darkening, every time Jim so much as looks his way. Jim begins to feel a little bad.

"What do you want, _idiot_?" or "Eyes to yourself, _Halpert_." is all Jim hears the rest of the day. It's of course immediately negated by Dwight's hot cheeks, something guarded and embarrassed in his face.

However far he's gone - and it's too far, Jim knows - Jim's already planning the next time.

Christmas isn't over for three more weeks.

And he'll be gentler, less aggressive and more discerning, next time.

 

 

 

Jim gets him three more times before the Christmas party.

The next time is alone, in the annex, and Jim presses a chaste kiss to his mouth before Dwight even sees the mistletoe. Dwight stands frozen, a dumb look on his face before Jim raises his eyebrows and points at the offending plant.

"Oh." Dwight says, and reddens.

He looks like he's waiting for Jim to ridicule him in front of the others all day, but Jim doesn't. For days afterward Dwight sends him questioning gazes, and immediately looks away in a rush when Jim looks back.

The time after that catches them both by surprise. Pam has set it up as evidenced by her wide smile when they both enter the elevator at the same time. Dwight pushes his way in ahead. Curses loudly when a giggling Pam waves upwards.

"Not again." He says, but mostly he's resigned, face lined with a frown. His face flushes beforehand that time. And Jim takes pity with a quick peck that mostly misses his mouth.

"That's so sweet!" Pam coos, after the flash of her camera has gone off. Dwight glares.

By the third time, Dwight is already angling his face up for the kiss. And Jim is - sweet, chaste, gentle. Although he can admit he doesn't _want_ to be.

"We have to stop meeting like this Dwight." Jim teases.

The whole office claps.

"You have to stop trying to humiliate me. You should know by now that's useless." Dwight bluffs confidently, but his face is beet red.

"You taste like beets." Jim says, and he hasn't said that before.

"like you taste any better!" Dwight barks defensively, but his expression has taken a noticeable turn for the worst.

Jim regrets it immediately.

His "but I like beets" is drowned out by Michael shouting "Boom! ROASTED!" and Dwight doesn't hear it.

From then on, Dwight starts popping altoids on the down low. When he thinks Jim can't see or isn't watching.

Jim kind of wants to apologize.

 

 

 

Packer comes to the Christmas party. It's the worst.

Somehow, Dwight falls to his knees. No, he doesn't fall. Michael makes him crawl around looking for - Jim doesn't know what. It doesn't matter.

What matters is that Packer's been trying to catch girls under mistletoes but when he sees Dwight on the floor he grabs a sprig and slips it into his belt buckle.

Jim's across the room and before he reaches them Packer already has his hand on the back of Dwight's head and is forcing him towards his crotch.

Michael, the idiot, is laughing.

Jim punches Packer, to the surprise and shock of no one but Michael.

And Dwight is _so_ embarrassed. Jim can tell by the way even his ears turn red and he has this expression on his face like he's about to be sick. Like he wants to just be swallowed by a black hole and never see any of them again.

"Dwight." Pam begins, but he shakes her off and pushes himself up.

He storms out of the room, trips over a garbage can on his way out - which only furthers his distress, and makes his way outside.

Jim follows.

" _Dwight_." Jim says, when he finds Dwight outside leaning against the building. Snow falling softly to the ground. It's beautiful out, but Jim isn't thinking about that.

"Don't - just don't look at me right now." Dwight instructs, huddling further into himself unhappily.

Jim obeys, keeps his eyes forward.

" _That_ was sexual harassment. You have a right to be upset." Jim says, sneaking a glance.

Dwight catches him and swallows dully.

"It's embarrassing."

"I know. But it wasn't your fault. No one's gonna laugh at you." Jim can't actually promise that so he amends, "No one should laugh at you. You were a victim. Like...with me."

Jim doesn't want to say that last part. Packer and him are worlds away and their motivations couldn't be different. But the effect was the same - an uncomfortable Dwight pushed past his limits that Jim and Packer really had no right abusing.

Jim feels nothing but satisfaction knowing Packer is going to be wearing a black eye for weeks to come.

"I guess, when I think about it, that's....different." Dwight admits a little stingily, and a breath of relief forcefully exits Jim at that. "You'd never do something in that poor of taste."

"Oh I don't know." Jim cracks, "I'd do you."

And just like that Jim says something he ought not. He's sure it shows on his face.

"Um..." Jim begins, meaning to backtrack but he's interrupted by a sharp, disbelieving, bark of laughter.

He does look at Dwight then, who is looking up.

A mistletoe is hung on the lamp above them, too high to reach.

"We don't have to." Jim says.

Dwight is quiet for a long time, and they stare at each other. The snow is glistening, makes Dwight seem ethereal.

"Why break tradition now?" Dwight asks in a little bit of a small, dry, nervous voice.

He doesn't make a move though. It takes Jim a second to realize he's waiting on him

So Jim plants his hands on Dwight's shoulders, heart pounding, and leans in. He hopes he hasn't misread the situation. But then Dwight's mouth opens under his and he knows he hasn't.

Dwight's breathless and dazed when he pulls away.

Again, they stare at one another. Jim almost thinks it's because neither of them want to break the spell.

Jim spots another mistletoe hanging from the next light. So he pushes Dwight, gently, who steps back obediently before finally coming back to himself and looking at Jim questioningly.

"Christmas rules." Jim says, and shrugs, grin growing as he tips his head back to look at the small decoration above them.

"Christmas rules." Dwight affirms, looking up after him.

That night, they make their way around the whole building. Which, suspiciously, has berries strung up all the way round.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Tim/Gareth

 

"Oh come off it Tim, not this again."

"It's charity season Gareth, one pound per kiss."

"I'll believe that when I see it. That someone's paid money to kiss _you_."

"Why? are you betting you can get more kisses than I can?"

"Well, I'd never _sell_ any kisses. Because I'm not a tart."

"Well, just for fun, why don't we make a go of it then? How many people in this here office that will buy a kiss from me or a kiss, not on the lips, from you? That way, no one will think you're a tart."

Tim deliberately makes it difficult for Gareth to easily shoot down. Gareth looks a bit queasy though. Just at the prospect of it, because he has to know he'll lose.

Tim feels a little bad about that part of it. It's not going to matter in a minute though.

"Fine." Gareth says begrudgingly. Already he looks stressed about it. "I'll find someone who will pay, mark my words."

Tim pulls a hundred pounds from his pocket.

"What-" Gareth squeaks, cheeks going red.

Tim approaches, tucks the money into Gareth's pocket, and promptly attacks his neck.

"Tim!" Garth shouts shrilly, and pushes at him.

"Kisses, not on the mouth. But you never said where." Tim gets out between lavishes - already yanking open Gareth's tie and shirt.

"I was to be the one doing the kissing!" Gareth protests.

"That wasn't specified." Tim rebuffs before continuing, counting each kiss down Gareth's newly exposed torso, "that's fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen."

By the time Tim makes it to 100 Gareth is a rather desperate puddle on the floor of his own office.

"Please Tim." Gareth begs, pulling at him.

"Please what?"

"Please kiss me."

"Can't do that." Tim says, and he's breathless himself. Gareth's hair is all mussed.

"Please just-" Gareth mutters in frustration before pulling away and rummaging around for his ill-gotten tart money. He presses the hundred pounds into Tim's hand - who promptly tucks it into his own back pocket. He'll use it to take out Gareth later, but first -

"Not there!" Gareth says, red-faced, yanking Tim away from his nipple, "my mouth."

"Oh you naughty tart." Tim teases, before his mouth descends.

He moans loudly into Gareth's mouth and it's worth it, for the outraged and prudish fluster he gets and the shrill little call of his name that surely - despite what Gareth wants to think - they can hear outside of his office.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
